


When the Lies Boil Over

by SaltyWords (agent4hire22)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Dark Dynasty coda-ish, First Kiss, Goodbyes, Heavy Angst, M/M, Mark of Cain, spoilers to 10x21
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-10
Updated: 2015-05-10
Packaged: 2018-03-29 21:00:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3910483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agent4hire22/pseuds/SaltyWords
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel had no doubt anymore. He was certain he had a soul. It turned out he must have grown it in the same place he kept his love for Dean.<br/>And now, he was lost. Everything he'd ever had, or ever wanted, was gone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When the Lies Boil Over

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, so this is kinda an episode Coda for Dark Dynasty, I guess. Really just go into it knowing I was drunk on red wine and listening to the Bon Iver album the whole time. So, I'm sorry.  
> I'm having a hard time dealing with the whole Charlie thing, okay?  
> Yeah, okay. I might still be drunk.

Dean’s teeth clacked together as he took a step back from the bed.

From where he’d laid Charlie’s body. 

He’d covered her with a blanket. He’d seen a lot of horrible things, but this, he couldn’t look at. 

It felt so violating.

The blood on his shirt, his hands, it burned into him. It felt tattooed to his mind. He felt the Mark flare on his arm, and he listened to it. Just a little, he let its whispers in. His heart was in his throat, and all he could think about was Sam.

He turned, stormed from the room, down the hallway. His shirt flaring out behind him as he moved. Steady, and quick, and with intent. He knew his hands were balled and he didn’t fight them loose like he normally would, like he’d been. He could smell the blood trailing after him like the ghost of all the Winchester bad choices, and it was thick with regret and blind with rage. 

It demanded addressing.

Dean couldn’t pretend that it was all for the greater good anymore. Maybe he was the only one who could stop this train wreck. 

Someone had to quell the trail of tears.

He hit the war room and found Sam sitting face in hands at the table, Castiel sitting next to him. Dean didn’t know when he’d gotten in. At the moment, it didn’t matter. He grabbed Sam by the shirt, spun him around, shoved him hard. Cas stood up, moved toward them, but stopped short.

“What the fuck is the matter with you, huh? What were you thinking?” He watched his brother’s tear-stained face struggle for an answer, then melt into a blank stare when nothing seemed relevant. “That’s the kind of blood that don’t wash off, Sam. When does it end, huh?”

Dean grabbed him by the shirt collar and got close. The Mark whispered to him and he let it. He shook Sam. Thought about wrapping his hands around his neck. “Do you know why all our family’s dead and dying?” Dean felt his voice low in his chest, rumbling out of him like an earthquake. “We’re just some unlucky sons of bitches, ain’t we?” He shook his head, twisted his fist-full of shirt tighter. “No, it’s because we’re killing them. _We are_ , Sam.”

Dean slammed him onto the table. He felt the blood lust inside his body eek up a tick. Every level it raised was a piece of himself he would never get back.

“I didn’t mean for this to happen,” Sam said behind tears.

“Oh, I know. But tell me what you expected. What did you expect, Sammy? When does this shit ever end well?”

“The book was our only shot--”

“ No,” Dean spat. “Just no. I told you to burn the fucking thing. I asked you to respect my wishes about this whole thing. How the hell did you feel when I didn’t listen to you and I got Kevin killed? Didn’t you see how that mistake tore me up?” He shoved his arm into his brother's face, gesturing violently with the Mark. He couldn’t believe he needed to remind Sam what lead to Dean’s idiocy in taking the fucking thing in the first place. “Then, you turn around and do the exact same fucking thing I did. And Charlie gets caught in the crossfire?  _ Charlie _ ! Innocent,  _ little sister _ , Charlie. She wasn’t a hunter. She wasn’t a fucking prophet. She had no business getting pulled into this! So, who’s next, huh? You wanna kill Cas?”

His eyes flashed. He shook Sam again. Hauled him up off the table just to shove him back and slam him into the wall. He shrugged at his brother, desperate and exasperated. “Should we kill Cas now? You got your Angel Blade on you? Should we go run him through? Put him out of his fucking misery?” He felt Cas’ presence next to him magnetic and hot. The words sat like poison in his mouth. The image of sticking an Angel Blade through his heart burned tears in his eyes and ate a certain piece of his soul that he was sure was necessary.

“Dean.” Cas was quiet. He touched Dean’s shoulder, and Dean shoved him away.

“Stop.” Sam held a hand out, flat-palmed on Dean’s chest, sniffed back tears. 

Dean could feel him shaking. Dean knew that the Mark was talking, and took a breath to reel it back in. He glanced at Cas. Felt the shame of pushing him like an icepick to the gut. 

“Something’s broke here, Sam,” Dean said quietly. He let go of his brother’s shirt and stalked away. Ran his hand through his hair and over his face. “You’re supposed to be better than me.”

“I’m not supposed to want you to live?”

“Where’s your moral high ground? You’re supposed to be the voice of reason for this shit-squad.”

“I couldn’t save you from going to Hell,” Sam said. His voice shook, his face a blotchy, heated red. “I can’t do that again. I feel like that failure is what’s caused all of this shit to happen. I can’t fail you again, Dean!”

Dean nodded instinctively. The same, worn out, head-bobbing response he always had when Sam said that same thing to him. The thing he’d always been eager to hear until now. Until words were just words, and the actions had all bled out down the drain like a discarded hooker.

_I did a bad thing because I love you. It justifies it._

It was the same goddamn argument he’d heard from his own mouth since forever. But the Mark on his arm, and the quickly-draining life clock over his head forced him to look at everything differently. Age, and rage, and a mountain of mistakes, had finally bore reality into him. Finally managed to replace the shit brainwashing from his upbringing.

He bit the insides of his cheeks. Tried to swallow it down, stop himself, but he couldn’t. “You already have,” he said. “You failed me tonight.”

He watched his brother fall apart and Dean’s face stayed cold, distant. He wished he could find that forgiveness for Sam. Shut the Mark off. Give it all another try.

_Sammy didn’t mean to get Charlie killed. He really did think she would be safe helping with this. Sammy only did the bad thing because he loves you. You want to be loved, Dean. You trained him to be this way. You’re as bad as your dad._

And fuck if that didn’t feel true.

That was why he couldn’t. He had to cut the problem off at the head. 

This was because of Dean, ultimately. Because Dean didn’t respect Sam, and Dean let Sam get angel-raped so he could keep him. Because, then Kevin got killed, and Metatron destroyed heaven, and Castiel fell from grace, and hell wasn’t closed… just all of it.

All Dean ever wanted was a family, and it turned out that was the worst evil of all. He was a cancer. He was the monster of this story. And Charlie’s blood gritted his hands. He could feel Cas’ life shorten in front of him as it nose-dove from an eternity of grace to an an abridged smoothie of human emotions and misguided loyalty. It had all already happened. He’d done it himself. The moment he touched them, he’d marked them like lamb’s blood on a door; they were offered for slaughter. He felt it immanent like the click of a trigger. They were all gonna be dead before they ever heard it. 

He saw it as clearly as he saw his own suicide. It had basically already happened. Because, the truth was, that domino had already been knocked over and he was just waiting for the sequence to finish. Dean had died nine years ago in a car accident, and what he’d been since then was an abomination of nature.

He knew Sam would never stop on his own. Couldn’t stop. Wasn’t capable of stopping. All the Winchesters could do was sacrifice themselves, but they weren’t capable of letting each other do it. 

But, if Dean was gone, Sam would stop. He’d pull himself out and get straight. Like when Dean was in Purgatory. Sam had found some semblance of normalcy then.

Dean was actually surprised to realize he'd been capable of managing the Mark, just not his brother’s grief.

“I’m done,” he said quietly. He backed away from Sam, blinked and pulled the Impala keys into his palm before he had time to realize what he’d decided. He turned to the door.

  
  


Castiel grabbed desperately at Dean’s coat. “Wait,” he said. “Where are you going? What are you going to do?” 

Dean shrugged him off, clenched his jaw and stopped. He waited a long moment before he turned around. When he did, Cas couldn’t read exactly what he saw in his eyes.

“I’m gonna go kill everything and everyone the fucking Stein family has ever loved,” Dean growled. “ For Charlie. Then, I’m gonna go get Crowley to cut me up into little pieces and bury me around the world so I can’t hurt anyone else when I turn.” 

Castiel felt the blood drain from his face. Heard the sob escape Sam. “Dean,” he said again softly. “I…” He stumbled and went quiet. There were so many things he wanted to say. None of them seemed appropriate or timely enough. “I’m sorry.”

He watched Dean’s face melt back into the repressed, half-lidded stare he’d been maintaining the last couple months. “I know, Cas. I ain't blaming you.”

“Please don’t do this, there’s more--”

Dean stepped forward, backed Cas up with his hand. Stepped into his space. “If you love me...” His voice hitched and Castiel felt the jostle of an apocalypse in his chest. 

He’d never heard those words from Dean. Never expected to. He felt as if something he’d been desperately hiding had just been unearthed, much to his own horror.

“If you love me,” Dean tried again, softer this time. He stepped closer still, and spun Cas the other direction so he could put is back to his brother. Close him off from the conversation as best he could, or avoid looking at him, Castiel wasn’t sure. “Like I know you do, then you’ll let me go take care of this myself.” Dean gently thumbed the sharp line of Cas’ jaw, no hesitation in the gesture. No regret.

Cas bit back tears, clenched his teeth. He suddenly couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. He was paralyzed by what was happening, everything coming down all at once. “Please don’t stand here and ask me to let you die,” he said.

Dean nodded, took another step closer. The heat from him warming Castiel’s bloodlessly-cold face. His lips just a chin-tilt from connection. Dean pulled at Cas’ tie, straightened it, then decided against it and pulled the knot at the top loose instead. “That’s what I’m doing, Cas,” he said quietly. Carefully. “Will you respect that?”

Castiel’s brain screamed at him to say no, but the word wouldn’t find his lips. He’d just heard everything Dean said to Sam. He knew in his heart that Dean was making the rational, responsible decision. It just wasn’t what Cas wanted. It was the exact opposite of what Castiel wanted. He wanted them to stay standing this close. He wanted to wake up with Dean in the morning for the rest of his life. He wanted his own life to be finite, and small, and include flannel, and hunting, and PB and J’s. He wanted to hear another of Dean’s stupid jokes, and get a chance to ride shotgun in the Impala when he did something good. He wanted to hold Dean’s hand and feel his body, and store the image of every freckle on his skin away so he could always have it. He wanted to know what it would be like for two people to become one in every sense of the word.

He’d been asked to do countless horrible things in his life. He’d made deals with devils, killed infants in ancient Egypt, been forced to murder a version of Dean thousands of times at Naomi’s will. But, Dean asking this, to let him die, it was the worst possible thing. Because, Castiel had no power to deny him.

A horrified shiver rolled through his body, trembled his jaw, and coerced tears to his eyes. His voice sludged in his throat thick and sticky like tar. 

“Yes,” he whispered, and was immediately sure it had been someone else. The room spun and he suddenly knew what it felt like to drown.

His throat burned. The air sucked out of him. He couldn’t feel his hands or feet.

He’d just staked himself. Castiel knew there was no him if there was no Dean Winchester. It was just a simple fact. But, the hunter’s green eyes had pulled him in like quicksand, and he’d never even attempted to crawl back out.

Dean’s lips tipped up at the edges, a bittersweet smile claiming his face. It was the first smile that had reached his eyes in months. If Castiel could only remember one thing from his entire existence, it would be that smile. The thankfulness of it. It played to Castiel like a movie. Everything Dean had ever wanted to say to him, it was said. Dean stroked a thumb on his cheek and closed the space. Their lips met softly and Castiel could taste the fear on him. He could hear the thundering pace of his heart, and feel the want in the desperate grip of his fingers. But, mostly, he could feel the _almost_. Dean’s lips broke Castiel’s levee and whatever angelic stoicism left in him popped like a firework in his chest.

Castiel sobbed into Dean and ached to take it all back. He would have the unspoken love for an eternity if he just got to keep Dean. Instead, he finally got the kiss, the reciprocation, and it was a goodbye. 

Dean’s rough hands rubbed his cheeks, and his pause, his hesitation, told Castiel that he was reconsidering. He lingered against Cas long enough that Cas thought he just might have changed his mind. Lost his nerve.

But, It was an idea he never should have entertained. Because, when Dean pulled back, tears in his eyes, the smile was gone. “Sam’s gonna take you down with him,” he said. His breath whispering against Cas’ cheek. “ I love the guy, but, I know he will. Get out if you can, okay? Take care of yourself. Maybe we’ll meet again in another life.”

His hand fell away, the key jingling around his finger, the finger he used to wear a ring on, and he left. No look back. No final words for his brother.

Castiel watched. Cataloged every step as he climbed the stairs. He used every fiber of his existence to stay standing there. Clenched his teeth so hard he felt the back molars crack. He fought the violent tremble in his chest with all the power of a soldier of heaven. Balled his fists. Archived Dean’s footfalls, Sam’s hopeless calls. 

When the Impala’s engine roared to life, whatever piece of Castiel that held him in harmony with his vessel cracked and broke. His grace flared up out of him. His skeletal, battered, and abused wings called from his body, spreading from wall to wall in a husk of other-worldly shadow, and the power of heaven rolled out of him like an atomic bomb. He screamed as light bulbs burst like giant yellow pop-its, mirrors shattered into sink basins, glasses, plates, bowls, and windows spider-webbed and crumbled to the floor. The wooden doors and crown molding splintered and ruptured off the wall, cracking from the hinges and cement.

When the wave of grace was exhausted, it sunk back into him like a dog tucking its tail. The interior faded to darkness, and Cas bled with emotion. His knees hit the floor and he sobbed. He had no doubt anymore. He was certain he had a soul. It turned out he must have grown it in the same spot he kept his love for Dean.

And now he was lost. Everything he’d ever had, or ever wanted, was gone. 

The bunker was a perfect illustration of his heart.

  
  
  



End file.
